


shut up and dance (with me)

by skitzofreak



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Pining, Prompt Challenge, ridiculous music, warning: macklemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 23:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: Jyn leans up, her face startlingly close, and Cassian rolls his shoulders to allow her to drag his coat down and off his arms.OR: The most ridiculous thing I hope to ever write.





	shut up and dance (with me)

**Author's Note:**

> SO, funny story, I was whining (humble bragging) to my spouse that I squish pining into everything I write, that I could write pining into the most unromantic prompt ever because I’m just that ridiculous. And my loving, supportive spouse looked at me for a moment and then raised one finger, picked up my ipod, and without a word queued up… “Thrift Shop,” by Macklemore. I am momentarily taken aback, but the Spirit is Strong Within Me and I declare Challenge Accepted, already planning a one shot wherein Jyn and Cassian and maybe Bodhi are hanging in a pawn shop hiding from stormtoopers and acting casual, and Jyn maybe finds a coat like Cassian’s and it brings back Memories and She’s So Pretty in Festian Clothes and I Want To Tell You About My Life…and then my loving, supportive spouse holds up a second finger and says, “Include the lyrics.”
> 
> At which point, I murdered my spouse and buried his body in the backyard but the hurricane dug it up and flung his gross corpse into the neighbor’s roof and now I’m on the lam from the coppers but hey, fuck you, honey, because I wrote the damn story.

Someone - Cassian hasn’t found out who yet, but when he does he might just have to hug them – has stolen an entire ship-load of space heaters from an Imperial supply line. As acts of rebellion go, it’s not exactly a decisive blow against tyranny and injustice. When the bulk of the Alliance’s bedraggled troops and the last shreds of still-living leadership are forced to huddle in the unforgiving deep freeze of Hoth for sanctuary from the relentless pursuit of Imperial forces, though…well, there is currently half-serious talk of giving the raiding party kriffing medals. Most of the heaters end up in command and in the hangar, of course, keeping sensitive equipment and key personnel capable of operating. But a handful have wound up in one of the smaller ice chambers that was originally slated to be a storage bay but became an impromptu cantina-slash-rec space.

Between the officially unauthorized moonshine distiller, the typical press of off-duty personnel, and the heaters, the space is probably the most bearable spot on Hoth. At least, as far as temperature goes. Cassian is not a fan of crowds or the constant dull roar of shouting people and whatever blaring music someone has hooked to a jury-rigged stereo system, but when he’s too exhausted to deal with the chill of his quarters or the mechanics bay, he finds the quietest corner available in The Freezer and enjoys the return of sensation in his toes.

Today is more crowded than usual considering it’s deep into the night shift, so the best he can get is to lean against a stack of crates near the wall. But Jyn is leaning next to him, huddled close against his shoulder for the extra bit of heat, and that more than makes up for it.  Cassian knows better than to try the hooch that comes out of that still, but he has a relatively warm mug of caf and Jyn is smirking at his dry commentary on the drunken dancing happening on the little cleared space in the middle of The Freezer. The relative warmth of the caf and Jyn’s closeness has him feeling lethargic, better than any alcoholic buzz, and when Jyn glances up and her smirk widens to a genuine smile for a brief moment, Cassian wants to take a holo of this moment and tuck it somewhere in his soul, so he can pull it out and look at it in colder times and places.

And then Han Solo swaggers up to them. “Erso,” he half-shouts over the chaos of the cantina, grinning broadly. “Hey Erso, remember that favor you owe me?”

Instantly, Jyn’s face hardens into the flinty, impassive mask she wears around the base when she’s not talking with the select few she considers friends. “No.”

“Yeah, you do,” Solo chuckles. “Look, Weems over there doesn’t think I know how to dance. I’d let him stew in his ignorance and all, but when a man slaps down a hundred creds to impugn your honor,” his grin, impossibly, widens as he says this, and he makes an impatient ‘come hither.’ “Well, when there’s a partner right here who can keep up with me, how could I turn down the chance at that much money?”

Cassian doesn’t flinch when Han Solo calls Jyn “partner,” but a slow, tight tension coils in his chest despite himself.

Jyn looks inclined to turn the challenge for Solo’s honor down, easily, but Solo gives an elaborately dramatic sigh and holds up three fingers, “and of course you get thirty percent.”

She lifts an eyebrow at him until he raises a fourth finger.  She seems inclined to hold out for fifty-fifty, but then Solo cocks an eyebrow right back at her and says, loudly, “ _favor_ ,” and for some reason glances at Cassian. Jyn grimaces, not looking at Cassian at all, which sets off all sorts of alarms in his head. Before he can ask what he’s missing, Jyn rolls her eyes and pushes herself away from the crates.

“Right,” Solo crows, and then makes a gesture to his Wookiee partner standing near the patchwork stereo. The Wookiee - Chewbacca, Cassian remembers as he rifles through his mental dossier - roars something in Shyriiwook that Cassian is pretty sure means _this is the stupidest idea in the galaxy, you hairless asshole._ It’s been awhile since he’s worked with Wookiees, though, so he’s not entirely sure. Judging by the smirk newly blooming on Jyn’s face, he’s probably not wrong. “Just play it, jackass!” Solo bellows back, and then he spins on his heel to face Jyn, grinning again.

“Corellian Thieves,” Solo says to Jyn, and to Cassian’s astonishment, she actually gives a short laugh and nods.

The music booms out of the speakers, cranked as high as they can go, and half the cantina bursts out laughing as the brassy opening melody of a popular – and ridiculous – song fills the space. Solo faces off across from Jyn, and grabs the front of his puffy winter jacket in obvious challenge, flicking the collar up and jerking his chin at her. In response, Jyn laces her fingers in front of her and stretches them out, cracking her knuckles like she’s about to start swinging her deadly fists.

Cassian half-hopes that she is. He’s never, ever going to complain about any aspect of his life with Jyn, no matter what shape it takes, but watching her smile at Solo like they’re both in on some private joke is…harder than he really wants to admit.

A deep voice suddenly rolls out of the speakers – _I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty credits in my pocket_ \- and Jyn and Solo dart towards each other, hands flying to each other’s hips and brushing up along their waists as they spin in a small orbit around each other, eyes locked, grinning, and then spin away immediately. Their backs to each other, they spin again, Solo looking over his shoulder as he reaches to grab Jyn’s hands, Jyn sliding her quick fingers back to skim along Solo’s hip again. They spin a third time to face one another, and as the singer rumbles – _this is fucking awesome!_ – they both hold up their prizes.

Solo has a scrap of flimsy with a number puzzle that used to be in Jyn’s trouser pocket (at some point, Cassian really has to find out why Kay keeps giving her ‘mental stimulation exercises’ in the form of crossword puzzles and number games). Jyn, flicking her eyebrow at him, holds up a what looks like an access card to the mechanics bay and a credit chip.

The crowd laughs as Solo pulls an exaggerated scowl on his face, and then the music changes tempo slightly as a higher-pitched voice takes over the lyrics. Jyn and Solo move towards each other again, slapping their stolen goods back into each other’s palms as the crowd shouts along to the weirdly appropriate line: _Ice on the fringe, it’s so damn frosty that people shout, ‘Damn! That’s a cold ass wampa!’_ A crew of x-wing maintenance workers near Cassian practically fall over themselves bellowing the line, and Jyn and Solo circle each other again before stepping in close.

Solo reaches for her, gets one hand on her shoulder, but Jyn twists deftly under his palm. Cassian watches Solo’s hand slide futilely off the back of Jyn’s neck as she whips her head under his wrist and turns smoothly on her heel to face him again. _Probably shoulda washed this, smells like Moff Tarkin’s sheets,_ the singer says gleefully (right, wasn’t this song banned in Imperial territory?) and Jyn darts in to press up against Solo’s chest, her hands sliding up to catch at his collar, and as the song pauses for the singer to whisper what exactly Tarkin’s sheets smelled like ( _piss_ ), she slides the zipper down until Solo’s jacket hangs open. _But shit_ , the crowd yells in delight with the singer, _it was only nine credits!_

Solo glares mockingly at her, and reaches for her hips, spinning her away from him with controlled force.

Cassian sets his caf down on the crate next to Jyn’s abandoned mug and stuffs his cold hands in his pockets.

 _Jedi jumpsuit and some house slippers, wookiee synth-leather jacket I found diggin’_ \- the song pulses up louder as some enterprising Bothan finds another speaker and wires it into the set – and Jyn and Solo latch their hands together at the wrists and twist under their locked arms, Solo ducking low and Jyn rising on her tiptoes to accommodate his height.  _Naboo Queen ain’t got nothin’ on my hair game, hell no_ , the singer boasts, and Cassian watches Jyn’s body stretch up into a tight arched line until she and Solo twist to face one another again. As they drop their hands and step inwards, Solo tries to grab at Jyn’s scarf. He moves too slow, though, and she grins again as she ducks under his swipe and flicks her fingers against his belt buckle in warning. _I’m gonna pop some tags_ , the deep voiced chorus starts up again, and this time most of the cantina sings along, _only got twenty credits in my pocket_.

Cassian tries to keep his eyes on Jyn’s nimble fingers, to see what she’s doing when she lifts a hand up over Solo’s chest, but he’s distracted when Solo grabs her shoulder with one hand and spins her around so her back is to him, his other hand snaking around to snag on the zipper at her throat. With a quick yank – _I,_ _I’m hunting, looking for a come-up_ – he pulls Jyn’s jacket zipper all the way down to her waist and slides his hands under her now swinging collar. _This is fucking awesome!_

Jyn tries to pull out of Solo’s grip, but this time he’s too fast for her, and her movement only helps him slip her jacket right off her arms, leaving her spinning in the middle of the room in one less layer than before. Solo laughs and with a showman’s flourish, flips her coat over his shoulder and into the hands of… a thoroughly unimpressed looking Leia Organa. Solo glances back, and pulls a comically unbelievable ‘surprised’ expression, like he had no idea the leader of the Rebel Alliance was even on the same planet, let alone standing two meters away watching him undress another woman.

Cassian recognizes the bitter flavor of his thoughts and mentally shakes himself. Jyn provides the distraction he needs before he gets too deep into _those_ weeds, because she takes advantage of Solo’s distraction to sidle up to him and run a hand up his exposed shirt front, snapping his head around to look at her. His grin is still insufferable, but there’s an uncertain edge to it as he lifts his hands to Jyn’s waist, steadying her as she presses against him and rises up on her toes.

 _I hit the party and they stop in that motherfucker_ , the singer bites out over the speakers, _they be like_ “ _oh, that’s Motti, that’s hella tight_.”

 _She’s going to kiss him_ , Cassian thinks a little blurrily.

 _And I’m like, yo_ – the music seems to screech to a halt as Jyn tilts her chin towards Solo, and then as the smuggler’s eyes widen, she abruptly spins away. _That’s fifty credits for a work shirt_ , the singer growls in disgust into the brief silence, and Jyn holds up Solo’s belt.

The bass line picks up again and the crowd howls with laughter as Solo’s hands fly to his waist, genuine surprise making him look about five years younger. Close by, Organa smirks and folds Jyn’s coat over her arm, quirking an eyebrow at Solo.

Cassian realizes he’s pushed away from his crates, and debates slumping back versus walking around the little clear circle where Jyn and Solo are now moving towards each other again, Solo clearly determined to get his belt back and Jyn just as determined to keep it away from him. Cassian can just slip out of the door and go somewhere to cool his suddenly overwarm head. It’s Hoth; he has a lot of options.

 _I call that getting swindled and pimped, I call that getting tricked by the rich Imps_ (definitely a banned song in Imperial space, he recalls now, and fairly controversial even on the planets that still wavered between the sides), and Solo grabs Jyn by the wrist and tries to spin her back against him, but she cleverly flips his grip on her and spins the opposite way, flinging out her other arm and sending the belt flying.

It nearly smacks Leia Organa in the face, and she reflexively catches it. Thunderclouds roll across her face, but as the crowd around her laughs again and someone reaches to pound her shoulder drunkenly, she rolls her eyes and slaps the belt over Jyn’s coat, clearly resigned to her sudden role as referee to this particular battle. Next to her, a few fighter pilots are nearly on the floor with laughter, and Luke Skywalker appears to be turning a peculiar shade of purple.  

Cassian sidles through the crowd, aimed for the door. He has to step aside when Chewbacca decides to push his way through to Organa, though, and the movement puts him briefly right at the edge of the open place where Solo is spinning Jyn in tight circles around himself, both of them grinning with adrenaline and humor.

The music takes on a heavier bass line, the high-pitched singer drops out, and Jyn looks across the space and sees Cassian. An odd look that he can’t read in the poor light of The Freezer flickers through her eyes, and then she neatly slips away from Solo’s grip, shooting him a catty look over her shoulder as she saunters towards Cassian.

 _I’m gonna pop some tags_ , the deep voice promises, and Cassian freezes like a deer in the kriffing speeder-lights as Jyn peeks up at him through her eyelashes and darts her tongue across her lips. _I, I’m hunting, looking for a come up_ – fast as a lothal-cat, she grabs the zipper to his old blue parka and yanks it down. Behind her, Solo takes the opportunity to spin around and hold his hands out pleadingly to Organa, apparently trying to sweet talk his belt back from her. She crosses her arms and leans back on her heels, smirking at him, unmoved. Cassian notes all this more out of a life-long habit of watching the perimeter; the vast majority of his attention is squarely on the strands of loose hair floating around Jyn’s sly grin as she reaches up again and digs her fingers into the fabric on his shoulders. _This is fucking awesome!_

Jyn leans up, her face startlingly close, and Cassian rolls his shoulders to allow her to drag his coat down and off his arms.

 _I wear your granddad’s clothes_ the deep voice croons, as Jyn winks at him and sways back, leaving him caught between the chill of The Freezer and the heat flushing up the back of his neck and into his face. ( _Thank the Force_ , he has enough self-possession left to think, _for dim lighting and dark stubble._ ) In the same movement, Jyn swings the parka around her own shoulders, and still looking him dead in the eye, mouths along with the next line – _I look incredible, I’m in this big-ass coat from that thrift shop down the road_.

Cassian can’t decide if he wants to laugh out loud, dart back into the anonymity of the crowd, or just grab her by the collar of his own damn coat and drag her from this far too crowded room.

He doesn’t make up his mind in time, and Solo, pouting from his unsuccessful attempt to wheedle his belt back from Organa, steps up suddenly behind Jyn, reaching for her shoulders and spinning her around. Jyn whirls, hands gripping her collar, and pops the front of her ( _his)_ parka at Solo in mockery of the smuggler’s initial challenge. _I look incredible._  Solo rolls his eyes and steps deftly away from her hands, catching her wrists again and spinning her in to his arms – _I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty credits in my pocket_ \- swiping at her scarf again and nearly getting the end of it around his fingers before she steps out with her foot and tangles her ankle between his. She’s ready for the way he lurches - _I,_ _I’m hunting, looking for a come-up_ \- twisting gracefully to the side as Solo stumbles and drops her scarf. She tugs the lanky smuggler into a half-embrace, half-judo hold. Cassian’s parka swings around her hips as she turns, flaring out as she all but drops Solo directly at Organa’s feet. The bass line quivers and stops, and the last notes ring through The Freezer as the singer and the crowd bellow the last line; _This is fucking awesome!_

A high-pitched child’s giggle echoes suddenly out of the speakers as Solo lands on his knees in front of Organa, and Jyn casually leans her elbow on his shoulder and crosses her ankles, smirking like a big game hunter showing off her prey.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Solo swears in Hutt, passionately, and the crowd roars with laughter. Cassian slips back through the crush of bodies, slinks towards the nearest heater and folds his arms, leaning against the cold wall. The heater and his own pounding blood will keep him from freezing long enough, he figures. On the dance floor, Organa lifts her chin and graceful as any queen hands Jyn her coat back, which Jyn accepts with equally regal poise. Organa then dangles Solo’s belt out in front of him, her lips twitching as he shoves himself to his feet and snatches at it, looming over her with a sarcastic _thanks, your worship_.

The crowd surges back to fill the now-available space in the center of the make-shift cantina, and Cassian loses sight of Jyn among the press of much taller bodies. He waits quietly, though, and within a few minutes he sees her – still wrapped in his parka, flushed pink from exertion and brushing back escaped wisps of dark hair – making her way through the crowd towards him in an unerring straight line.

He debates commenting on her skill at dancing, or perhaps just her ability to steal from a fellow thief who knows she’s coming, but then the speaker system starts to boom out another bouncy club song, and she rolls her eyes over the cacophony. She thrusts her own coat at him, which he takes slowly, watching as she slides her hands up the zipper of his parka and trails her fingertips through the fur at the collar for a moment – pausing to glance up at him, smirking again like she had at the dance floor. This time, though, he leans his head down and slowly raises an eyebrow at her, smiling right back - because when the entirety of the Alliance isn’t staring at him, he figures two can play at this game.

Jyn’s eyes widen, her lips part softly, and she blinks at him, smirk gone. Then, unexpectedly, she throws her head back and laughs with pure delight, and Cassian holds his breath until she lowers her head and shoots him a playful glare. _You are such a jerk_ , her wry smile says, and Cassian shrugs a little because at this exact moment he will agree to pretty much anything she says.

Jyn pulls his parka off and hands it to him, giving him that small smile that feels like it’s just for him, a private joke only they understand. Cassian takes it, slings it back over his shoulders absently, and then holds hers out so that she can turn and slide her arms in easily.

She spins a little on her heel and steps back toward him, closer than he anticipates, further than he wants, and Cassian steals the chance to brush his fingers against her neck as he gently tugs her hair free from the collar of the coat. Jyn shivers under his hands, a little movement that has nothing to do with the chill of Hoth.

The little carved out ice cavern where the tattered and battered rebels huddle to hide from the ruthless army that would crush them for daring to hope is a temporary haven at best. It’s crowded and noisy and still unpleasantly cold despite the heaters and close-pressed bodies. There’s a chance the Empire will find them tomorrow and blow them all into space dust.

But Jyn looks back over her shoulder at Cassian and smiles like he’s the only other person in the galaxy, and Cassian wouldn’t be anywhere else.

**Author's Note:**

> There. I win.
> 
> EDIT: And Ivaylo/@crazy-fruit [made some art](http://crazy-fruit.tumblr.com/post/166253600972/ask-skitzofreak-about-this-because-i-certainly), and I'm sort of sorry for infecting you with Macklemore but also not sorry because this is fabulous!


End file.
